I don't have your answer
by mymockingjay
Summary: '"Someone had to shut you up," Fitz says.  And then the hand holding the knife is thrusting forward, and Eli is  bending over it, eyes wide.  I hear a scream, and realize it's coming from me.'  basically, the last episode, in clare's pov :
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first fic not based on a book haha.**

**Also, I am sooooo sorry to all my Hunger Games readers. Three words: AP/Honors homework. more explanation later, promise.**

**But anyway, and Eclare fic:) I love Eli. So much. hahah. This really is just the final episode, same plot, same dialogue, so obviously I own nothing. I just wanted to put it in Clare's emotions. Maybe I'll do it from Eli's pov too. sometime.**

**Anywayys, yeah. One shot, but R&R pleeeeease.  
**

I walk through the door behind Alli, knowing I may very well be starting the worst night of my 15 year old life. But hopefully, it will finally resolve the ridiculous feud between Eli and Fitz, the boy I seem to be falling in love with, and the sadistic boy who torments him. I know one thing about tonight: it will change everything, either for better or worse. And I have to see it through.

Jenna's disappeared somewhere, and Alli's just spotted Drew, so I'm left alone in the crowded, garishly decorated gym. Vegas night. Maybe it's appropriate that I'm gambling so much on this one night.

I don't see Fitz anywhere, so I make my way through the hallway to his locker. I know the site from the various tormenting that happens here every day. From the end of the darkened hall, I see him, and steel my nerves, forcing a smile onto my face. "Is that corsage for me?" I ask, breaking the awkward silence.

He looks up, not smiling. "Yeah... my mom made me get it."

I take it from his hands carefully. "I like it," I say, "But I'm not going to have sex with you." The words bring images of Eli's betrayed face outside my house, and I struggle to keep my smile plastered on.

Fitz has a bewildered, amused smile now. "Woah, where did that come from?"

"I know what you told Eli." I say, feeling defensive but keeping my smile firmly in place.

Now Fitz smiles for real, and I can almost believe he isn't a monster. "Clare, in theory, all guys want to hook up with a cute girl like you. But I wouldn't try anything, unless you wanted it."

Now it's my turn to be confused. "In theory, not a chance," I laugh. "I guess Eli overreacted."

"I guess so," he says. I don't miss the cold hatred that crosses his face at the mention of Eli's name, but I ignore it.

"Is there anyway you two can just move on, forget this stupid feud?" I ask, barely daring to hope.

"Hey, I was willing to accept his apology, but then your little boyfriend got me arrested."

"Could an apology still work?"

"Yeah, but I doubt I'm gonna get one."

The hope I'd been trying to keep down bloomed to life, and the smile I'd been forcing finally became real. As we walked to they gym side by side, not touching, my thoughts were flying. It would be over. Eli and I could finally be together.

"Hey, I'm gonna go tell him," I say, not waiting for his response as I flit across the gym, searching for the brilliant goth boy who so often occupied my thoughts. I see him at a dice table, his face curved into a sly smirk as he rolls. I walk up to him, and before I get a word out, he speaks, an edge in his voice and his smile faltering slightly.

"Having fun on your date?"

"You can't be mad at me because I refused to slip ipecac into Fitz's drink," I say defensively.

"Can I be mad you're with him?" he counters, and I hear the smallest edge of hurt laced with the bluntness.

"He threatened to hurt you! What was I supposed to do?" I say, desperation lacing my own voice.

"Let me handle it," he says, hardness creeping into his.

"Oh, because that was working so well," I say sarcastically. "Fitz isn't the monster you think he is. He's willing to bury the hatchet. He just wants one thing."

He looks at me now, disbelief clouding his features. "You're going to sleep with him?"

I roll my eyes. "No! You're going to apologize."

"For what?"

"Anything he wants, Eli please!" I search his face, looking for a sign of acquiescence.

He finally sighs, and the hard mask he's been maintaining melts away. "Okay. But I won't mean it," he says, softening his tone.

"You just have to sell it." I squeeze his arm, trying to convey all the gratitude... and maybe love... into that one gesture. "I'm gonna go get him."

I wander through the crowd, briefly wondering where Alli is, since I haven't seen her since the night started, but my mind is occupied by other things. I see Mark Fitzerald across the room, and I can honestly say I've never been so happy to see him since I've known who he is, nor have I ever thought I would be even remotely happy to see him. But I am.

I touch his sleeve to get his attention. "Eli's willing to apologize," I say, and wait for his reaction.

"Alright, let's get this over with then." He follows me back to the dice table, but then I see Eli standing near the punch. And my heart sinks further than it has all night. He wouldn't...

I push down the turmoil inside me, and brighten my voice. "We're all here, ready for the apology."

"You know in some places, this would be considered blackmail," Eli says, avoiding my gaze.

"Eli, stop procrastinating," I rebuke.

"Yeah Eli, do what the lady says," Fitz butts in, enjoying his position of power.

"I'm really sorry for everything Fitz," Eli says, and glances at me.

I'm relieved, forgetting about the ipecac he probably slipped into the drink, just so relieved that he's finally out of danger when Fitz says, "You said the words, but I didn't feel them. Doesn't count."

I'm beginning to wonder how many times my heart can sink in four hours. But my voice is steady and still bright when I say, "Fitz, he apologized, that's all you asked. Now shake hands."

"Or a toast!" Eli says, picking up two cups beside him on the table.

They touch glasses, and just before they drink, I yell, "Wait! Trade cups. It's an... Ancient Roman tradition." I try to catch Eli's eye, hating him for this twist. But as they drink, nothing happens. Eli looks fine. But then I look at Fitz, and he's turning green. Two seconds more and he throws up in the trash can, and runs away, as Eli bursts out laughing.

I whirl on Eli. "What was that?" I ask furiously. This could have ended tonight, and his stupid pride just made everything worse.

"Hey, you're the one who made us switch," he smiles, enjoying his moment.

"Don't you dare put this on me!" I yell. My emotions are raging inside me, and the words are out of my mouth before I have time to stop them, but I don't regret it. "Whatever Fitz does to you, you deserve it!" Before I can register the hurt and anger on his face, I run away, away from him, and after Fitz.

I know exactly where he'll be. And as I near his locker, I know I'm right.

"Hey, are you okay?" I ask tentatively.

"Yep," is his curt answer as he stares into his locker.

"I'm really sorry about Eli," I say. "He's always trying to come off as this bad ass—the worst part is, I fell for him," I ramble. I little laugh escapes me. "I guess that makes me a—"

"Regular ass?" Fitz interjects, not the slightest hint of humor in his voice.

"Well, I was gonna say naïve," I correct.

Then, he turns to look at me, while slowly pulling something out of his locker. His hand is clenched around a wicked knife. His face is completely expressionless, except for a glint in his eyes that seems to match the glint of the knife as he holds my gaze, which makes it all the worse. My heart thuds to a stoop as I understand his intent.

"Well," I laugh, "I should get back in there." I fight to control my voice, once again forcing a smile to hide the fear on my face as I back away. He says nothing, but his cold eyes follow me until I turn the corner, and then I'm running.

When I reach the gym, I scan for the bright red jacket, but see nothing. "Adam!" I yell when I almost collide with him. "Where's Eli?"

Apparently the fear in my voice isn't as obvious as it feels, because he responds with "Why? So you can lecture him some more?"

"Fitz has a knife," I say, putting all the urgency in my body into my voice.

Understanding and fear floods his eyes as he reaches the same conclusion I did moment earlier. "Do you think he's gonna use it?"

"I don't know, I don't know. Just tell me where Eli is," I choke out, fear beginning to paralyze me as my brain runs over all the scenarios possibly about to unfold.

"Looking for you." My head is spinning, this can't be happening.

"Go tell Simpson," I tell him before running out of the crowded gym, fear and adrenaline pumping through my veins.

I pound through the halls, praying I find him before Fitz does. Where could he possible be going? I run through all our meeting places, and one stands prominent in my mind. He'll be at my locker, I'm sure. He has to. Just as I round the corner leading to it, I see his unmistakable black hair and red jacket leaning against a locker. Relief, along with about a million other emotions, flood through me. I run to him, clutching the brilliant scarlet material. I look into his eyes, and upon seeing the confusion and wariness, mixed with maybe something else, I find myself choking back tears. Brilliant, witty, enigmatic Eli, about to be taken away from me forever. I choke the words out. "Come with me, Fitz has a knife."

He doesn't move, just tries to stop the fear already transforming his countenance. I can't believe this. Danger is on its way in the form of a sadistic bully bent on his blood, and he isn't moving. "This is where we run! Let's go!" I yell, shaking him.

The next words out of his mouth send my heart plummeting further than any time before, because I know he's lying. "I'm not gonna let that jerk scare me." he says, though the fear is plain as day on his face.

"Eli, he has a _knife_!" I try to pull him away from the locker again, but it's too late, because at that moment, Fitz's voice rings out to us.

"Aw, isn't that cute."

Both our heads whip around toward the jarring sound of his voice. Eli pushes away from the locker, facing him, and subtly casts his arm in from of me, pushing me behind him. I cling to him, terrified. "You should go," I say softly, hoping Fitz hears, but knowing in my heart it makes no difference.

"And let pretty boy make time with my date?" he laughs maliciously. He moves towards us, and Eli pushes us backwards at the same pace until he stops, and I know the wall is only a few feet behind us. We're cornered. My heart thuds painfully, fear literally choking me now. This isn't happening. This can't be happening. These things don't happen to me. Or the people I might possibly be in love with. This is all wrong.

"Fitz, don't do this," I say, my voice shaking, but louder than before.

"Shut up bitch!" he yells. A whimpering sound escapes me. He is advancing again, but we don't move. The knife is shining evilly in his clenched fist.

"Get away from me," Eli says quietly, his voice calm, but I know it's only for me. He pushes me gently across the hall, and my fingers numbly let go of his jacket. Tears form in my eyes, but I don't struggle. Rather, I seem to have lost all control of myself, because I'm stumbling and falling against the lockers, crying out. My eyes flit between that red jacket, the wavy black hair, the deep green eyes carefully lined in black, and for the first time since I've met him, wide with terror.

"What emo boy? No snappy comebacks?" Fitz taunts, completely in control, knowing he has the power to end a life in the palm of his hand, literally.

Eli backs up slowly, his hands up in surrender. "Fitz, I'm sorry. For everything. You win." There's no smile in his eyes, no trick up his sleeve, no sarcasm in his voice. And by this, I know exactly how scared he is. And that scares me more than anything else. Intrepid, invincible Eli, scared for his life. This isn't right.

"Yeah I've heard that before," Fitz says, obviously thinking of his previous arrest at Eli's hands. The first in a long line of exchanges between them that inevitably led to this moment. This awful, terrible, dreadful moment.

Eli's up against the lockers now, trapped. "I mean it this time." I see tears in his eyes, feel tears in my own, but don't blink them away. I keep my eyes wide, locked on his green ones, locked on the knife. The knife that could end everything, destroy my whole world, in an instant.

They're directly in front of me now. I can't see the knife anymore, but I know it's still firmly in that cold, hard fist. "Please," Eli says softly.

But Fitz remains cold, unreachable in his sadistic, cruelly twisted mind. He holds the knife up, tightening his grip on it, and my heart stops. This is it. This is where the world falls apart.

"Someone had to shut you up," Fitz says. And then the hand holding the knife is thrusting forward, and Eli is bending over it, eyes wide. I hear a scream, and realize it's coming from me. Eli is sinking to the ground, and I'm running to him. Then I see the knife, not lodged in Eli's body, but jammed into the locker, just the left of his head. Still, my eyes frantically search for blood, not comprehending the turn of events. My hand is on his knee, the other on his shoulder, and when I finally wrap my head around the fact that he is here, whole, _alive_, I allow myself to look into his eyes.

Fitz laughs, "Don't worry, you can bleach out urine stains." And I realize this has all been a game to him. He never intended to hurt Eli, only scare him. The tactic Eli himself had wanted to use. I want to hate him, hate them both, but I can't. Hate takes too much energy, and I have none to spare. Instead, I just gaze into the bottomless green eyes in front of me, relief finally filling me, and sigh.

I hear a siren, behind us, and the police are here for Fitz. Just too late. I think he leaves without struggling, but I don't pay them any attention. I just gaze into his eyes, the expression mirroring my own. Already this feels like a dream. A nightmare to be forgotten. But I know it never will.

I don't know how long we sit there, staring at each other. But eventually he stands, pulling me up. I want to hold him, to know for sure he won't leave me. His arms wrap around me, and the tears I've been holding back soak into his shirt. We stand like this indefinitely, but again, at some point I break away, and we begin to walk out.

We're silent until actually outside, where people are milling about and Simpson is telling everyone to leave. Then he speaks. "When I was nine there was this kid Mike. His hobby was beating me up. And no matter how fast I ran he was always faster."

I know this is some explanation for the actions that led up to this point, but all I can think to say is, "You're not nine anymore."

He turns to look at me. "Well neither are the bullies so what am I supposed to do?"

I don't have the strength for his fire. I'm exhausted. "I don't have you're answer," I say. "But if it's this, I can't be with you."

Silence.


	2. Eli

**A/N: This isn't a continuation of my previous story, it's the same thing, but in Eli's pov. I just didn't want to make it it's own story haha. Personally though, I think I did better with Eli than with Clare. But seriously, let me know. Maybe, if I get reviews, I'll actually try to add to this. But I do better if the plot line is given to me and I just need to add the story and dialogue and such. I'm bad at coming up with the story idea itself. haha.**

**REVIEW:)  
**

I pull away from Clare's house in my hearse, wondering about her final words to me before she'd disappeared into the house in anger.

I admit, it was out of line for me to ask her to slip the ipecac into the devil's drink, but she'd gotten so upset and angry with me, I had responded defensively without thinking about it.

_Whose side are you on?_, I'd asked, because for the first time I wasn't sure. Neither was she, apparently.

_I'm not sure anymore. But I know it's not the side that poisons people_.

That had been like a knife in my side. Clare was supposed to back me up, stand beside me. If she thought something was wrong with my methods, strongly enough to abandon me at the opportune hour, maybe she was right.

I'm almost home. I carefully park my beloved car, and once inside I look through my darkened room for "Vegas" style clothes. Red jacket, black pants. Good enough. More color than I usually wear, anyway.

I walk back out to my car, not bothering to call a goodbye to the empty house. Always empty. Parents never around to harass me about homework, ask about my day. No mother to fuss over me when I'm sick, no dad to joke around with or ask about girls. They've been gone for a while. But of course, I like it better this way. Emancipated. Alone. No, not alone. Free. Or, that's what I tell myself.

I shake the thoughts from my heads as I near Adam's house, almost stopping at Clare's on the way, though I know she won't talk to me. In fact, it would probably be in my best interest to avoid her and her... date... tonight. Ugh. I still can't wrap my head around the fact that my girlfriend Clare is going to Vegas night with my arch nemesis. And I have to let her.

I stop my hearse in Adam's driveway, and notice that Drew's own car is conspicuously absent. But I don't think much of it. He's usually out with friends anyway, leaving the house to Adam and myself, when I'm here.

I walk in the door, not bothering to knock since Adam knows I'm coming. Hopefully his mother isn't here though. I don't think Mrs. Torres likes me much. She doesn't like anyone much, except her own children.

"Hey," Adam says, finally noticing me. He looks much the same as always.. I nod in response, not wanting left over anger to lace my voice.

"Okay, spit it out. I know you stopped at Clare's house. What did you do?" Adam demands, not bothering to look up from his comic.

Damn this kid and his intuition. "I don't know what you're talking about," I say, picking up a comic of my own.

"You're lying." Obviously, I think. But I say nothing, just flip through my comic. He and I both know I'll speak up when it suits me.

And it suits me now. "I wanted her to slip ipecac into Fitz's drink." HE looks up now, giving me a look I can't quite decipher. "She refused." Hello, understatement.

"Wow Eli. I could have told you it was a bad idea. I'm surprised she didn't blow up." He pauses. "She did, didn't she?"

"Not blow up exactly." I relay the conversation to him. And any hope that I'd misinterpreted her reaction dies with his sharp intake of breath at the climax.

"You're an idiot," he says, looking down at his comic.

"I know. She hates me doesn't she?"

"Nah. She's just mad. Cause you're an idiot." I throw my comic at his head.

"Come on, let's get this night over with," I say, getting up. We walk out to my car, and with out talking, I drive us to Degrassi. Before I know it, we're there and Adam has disappeared to find his brother. I can tell something bad happened there, but I honestly don't care at this point, because I see Clare walk through the door. She's so beautiful, even in her ridiculously conservative dress. But I don't approach her, don't call her name. She disappears into a hallway, presumably to find her date. Ugh. If I were six inches taller... No, not even then could I realistically take that moron down in a fight. I can hold my own, but barely. And that's the problem.

But these thoughts aren't helping anything. I'm still standing in the middle of the gym, alone. Still dateless. My girlfriend is still mad at me. My best friend is still somewhere else. So instead of thinking more, I saunter to the nearest dice table, and decide to try my hand at this ridiculous game. A few rounds in, I'm winning chips rapidly, and better yet, I'm distracted. I love this game.

I don't know how much time passes, but suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I see Clare walking toward me. I steel myself, not about to look weak or upset in front of her. I'm about to roll when she comes up to me. I know she has something to say, but I speak first. "Having fun on your date?" I don't stop the hard edge in my voice, but without my consent, the hurt makes itself heard as well, but just barely.

"You can't be mad because I refused to slip ipecac into Fitz's drink," Clare says in her soft, lovely voice. The voice I still haven't figured out how to say no to.

But she has a point. "Can I be mad you're with him?" I say, not looking at her. The hurt is more outspoken now, to my dismay.

But her voice is just as unsteady. "He threatened to hurt you! What was I supposed to do?" Though I'd never tell her, I like that she worries about me.

But she doesn't have to. "Let me handle it," I say. And this time my voice is one hundred percent steady as I turn to look at her, almost falling into her pale blue eyes.

Pale blue eyes that are rolling in contempt. "Because that was working so well." And then she says something completely unexpected. Something I don't know how to handle. "Fitz isn't the monster you think. He's willing to bury the hatchet. He just wants one thing." OF course, my mind jumps to the worst thing.

"You're gonna have sex with him?" I blurt out, knowing I won't be able to stop my fists from finding his smug little face.

"No!" she exclaims, and I almost sigh in relief. And then her next words come. "You're going to apologize."

Disbelief fills me. He's the one who needs to apologize. "For what?" I demand. This is not cool.

"Anything he wants! Eli please!" Her voice finally breaks, all hardness disappearing. And I'm defenseless.

"Alright. But I won't mean it." I can almost say I'd do anything to see her eyes light up as they do now. Almost.

She smiles at me, squeezes my arm. "I'm gonna go get him," she says before whirling away. I watch her go for a moment before she disappears into the crowd. An apology to Fitz... And suddenly my mind is turning and a plan is forming. I still have the ipecac in my pocket...

I walk determinedly to the drinks table, taking two ginger ales with me. I pour the ipecac into one, and make sure to place it closest to me. I know Clare well enough to know that she'll guess my plan immediately, and do whatever she can to switch the cups. Always thinking ahead, my brilliant Clare. But not far enough ahead. I know she'll hate me for this, but I just assume she'll get past it when Fitz finally leaves us alone. I purposely don't think of any permanent negative consequences to my actions. Like I said to Clare, the only way to control a bully is to keep him scared. But that won't work if I scare myself with all the possible undesirable outcomes to this night.

I see Clare leading Fitz toward me, and don't miss the disappointment and anger that cross her beautiful face as she sees my new location. But I avoid eye contact. Always the coward. I'll take on bullies any day, but facing the wrath of an angry woman? No thanks.

She forces a smile back on her face, something I imagine she's getting very good at tonight. "We're all here, set for the apology." She looks at me pointedly, but I stall, as I always do in confrontation.

"You know, in some places this would be considered blackmail," I inform Fitz, smirking slightly.

"Eli, stop procrastinating," Clare rebukes me. I want to glare at her, but I don't.

"Yeah Eli, do what the lady says," Fitz smirks at me. Him, on the other hand, I freely glare at.

"I'm sorry for everything Fitz," I say. The words taste like vinegar on my tongue, but I can see Clare's happy. At least, she was happy until Fitz spoke again: "You said the words, but I didn't feel them. Doesn't count."

But rather than becoming visibly upset, her lips just set impatiently for a moment before she says, "Fitz, he apologized, that's all you asked. Now shake hands."

I relish the unhappiness that crosses Fitz's smug face as he extends his hand for a moment, before I say, "Or, a toast." I reach behind me and hand Fitz the ipecac-free cup. I glance fleetingly at Clare, and see her eyes wide with disbelief. I slowly raise the cup to my lips, waiting for her move.

"Switch cups!" she says, as she takes the cups from our hands and switches them for us. I glance at her again, and see her face is hardened, rather than smug as I may have expected.

But I drink, and Fitz drinks, and I feel her watching me. But nothing happens, I won't throw up. Realization fills her face just before Fitz, who is now a delightful shade of green, whirls to a trash can to give up his dinner... and lunch. I burst out laughing as he runs away in humiliation. It all worked out perfectly.

But now comes the part I refused to think about. Clare whirls on me. "What was that?" she screams. I know exactly what she's thinking. My stupid pride ruined her perfect little diplomatic solution. We could have been together without worrying about Fitz, and I ruined it. Just like I ruin everything.

But I say none of this. I keep my signature smirk firmly in place as I say, "You're the one who made us switch."

"Don't you dare put this on me!" she yells. I've never seen her so angry. I guess I underestimated how mad she would be. "Whatever Fitz does to you, you deserve it!" she yells before she storms away, after Fitz. Not me, because I'm the reason she's mad. No, she's going after my enemy. After Fitz. To comfort him, probably. Because she's so naïve, and believes even the most evil people have good in them. Except me. I'm sure she's abandoned all hope in me. The smirk on my face is long gone. I glare into the distance, at nothing. Because nothing can help the anger and the _pain_ I'm feeling now. For some reason, I'd truly believed she would forgive me. Yeah, she'd be mad at first, but she'd see that I'm right. I am right.

No, I'm not right. I just didn't want to see it. And now, just as Clare thinks, I've ruined everything. I take a swig of my drink, and then stalk off. I see Adam, and approach him. "I'm an idiot," I tell him, without elaborating.

"Why?" he says, not taking his eyes off his game.

"Clare definitely hates me. I put ipecac in a drink for Fitz."

"Dude. You're so dumb," he says. "Go find her!" he exclaims when I just stand there, staring at him.

"I have to, don't I?" I don't wait for his answer before walking to the halls. I really don't want to go to Fitz's locker. That would probably add fire to the flames. So instead, I wander the halls, meandering between all our meeting places. Cafeteria, Adam's locker, my locker. No sign of her anywhere. I let despair hang over me in a cloud. Finally I make my way to her locker, the final place she might be. I round the corner, and she's no where in sight. Still, I walk slowly to the spot, leaning against it. What have I done? Clare... the one person who made me truly happy. I've pushed her away. Ruined everything, again. Like always.

A sound at the end of the hall tears me from my thoughts. But I don't bother to look. Not until I hear feet running toward me, and then Clare, my beautiful Clare, is right in front of me, holding my jacket, staring into my eyes. But instead of remorse or apathy or even anger, her blue eyes are filled with fear. Something isn't right.

And then the words are out of her mouth. "Come with me, Fitz has a knife."

I freeze. The words are bouncing around inside my skull. Knife. Fitz. Fitz. Knife. I can't piece them together. I just stare into her blue eyes, feeling my own face contort with fear, trying desperately to stop it.

She's speaking again, and this time I snap to attention. "This is where we run! Let's go!" she yells, pulling on my jacket, trying to make me move.

But I stay frozen, though the words have stopped bouncing around in my head and formed into coherent sentences. Terrifyingly coherent sentences. But although I know she must see the fear in my eyes, because no one can see through my facades better than Clare, I say. "I'm not gonna let that jerk scare me." Even my voice is stripped of its usual bravado, fear taking its place. But I can't run. And I can't take Clare with me. I know that will only draw him down on us so much harder when he finally catches us. So I have to pretend to be brave.

Clare's becoming more scared and more desperate with each second, and it doesn't help my own fear. "Eli, he has a _knife_!" she yells, pulling me again. She obviously thinks I'm just trying to be brave, not giving up my pride, like always. I wish I could send her far, far away, so she wouldn't have to deal with this. But that's not an option.

Nothing's an option anymore, because Fitz's evil voice resounds through the halls at that moment. "Aw, isn't that cute?" he calls. Under normal circumstances, a sarcastic remark would have jumped to my lips at his nonexistent verbal acuity. But right now, all I can think about is the glint of that knife in his hand, and the terrified girl standing beside me.

I push away from the locker, putting my arm in front of Clare, pushing her gently behind me. This is the only protection I can offer her now, even though I know Fitz is after me, not her. I repeat that to myself. Clare is not in danger here. I am. Not Clare. Clare is safe. This is the only thought that keeps me sane. I avoid the obvious errors to that logic—that Fitz is unstable, and might change his target at any given moment, or go after me and then Clare, leaving us both helpless. Me helpless to save her, her helpless to escape.

"You should go," Clare whispers. I know she isn't talking to me, but I can't help but think of how tempting that is. To grab her hand and run.

"And let pretty boy make time with my date?" Fitz scoffs. He is completely calm, in control. His life is not at stake, nor is the life of the girl he might possibly... love. There, I thought it. Love. But I regret the admission. If I love Clare now, everything becomes harder, more painful, ruined.

Fitz advances. I push Clare backwards, matching his pace step for step., not letting him come any nearer to her. If I can do one thing tonight, it's keep her safe as long as my heart is beating. Because, let's face it. Odds are at some point tonight it's going to stop beating. The only thing I can hope for is for Clare's face to be the last thing I see in this life. That is my dying wish.

"Fitz, don't do this," Clare says, her voice, though shaking awfully, is louder than before. Her fingers are digging into my arm, anchoring me.

"Shut up bitch!" Fitz yells, and a terrible whimpering sound escapes Clare. She's terrified. I can feel it in the grasp of her hands, her breath on my cheek. I want to hold her tight, tell her everything will be okay. Wake her from this awful nightmare.

Fitz is moving toward us again, but the wall is only a few feet behind us. I don't want Clare cornered with me, so I do the only thing I can. "Get away from me," I tell her, mixing as much gentleness and force as possible. I cast my arm out away from me, taking her with it. To my relief, she doesn't struggle or protest, just lets herself fall against the lockers on the other end of the hall, crying out softly. A sound that tears my heart just as much as the absence of her fingers on my arm.

I let my eyes linger on hers for a moment, then train them on the knife. I don't look into Fitz's eyes. No doubt he would interpret that as a challenge. "What emo boy? No snappy comebacks?" He taunts, enjoying my fear.

"Look, I'm sorry. For everything. You win," I say softly. There's no sarcasm in my voice now. It's gone, part of another lifetime, it seems. He moves toward me, and I step back until I feel the cold lockers against my back. I'm cornered.

"Yeah I've heard that before," he says, his voice grating on my nerves, shredding them. If I'd known my actions would lead up to this moment, would I still have gone through with them? If I'd known their impact on Clare, and myself. On us. Would I have acted the same way?

"Please," I whisper. I'm going to die. I'll never see my parents again. I'll never see Adam again. I'll never see Clare. Oh God, I'll never tell Clare how I feel. I'll never see her blue eyes light up at something I say, never see her nose scrunch up when she concentrates hard on school work or fan-fiction. This thought sends me over the edge. "Please," I whisper again, though I know it makes no difference. Tears are brimming my eyes, something that hasn't happened since Julia's death. And only a few then.

But Fitz doesn't care. He's on a mission. A mission to end me. He raises the knife in his hand, his eyes so cold and expressionless you'd think he was the corpse. "Someone had to shut you up," he says. And then, time slows to a crawl, and at the same time, accelerates to warp speed.

The knife is coming down toward me, but doesn't collide with my body. Instead, it slams into the wall right next to me. A fist slams into my stomach, not hard, but the shock is enough to double me over, and I hear a piercing scream. Clare must not have seen the sudden twist. I'm sinking down to the ground. Fitz is above me, laughing.

And suddenly Clare is in front of me, her hand on my knee, my shoulder. She doesn't seem to believe that I'm whole. Her eyes flit from the knife above me to my body, scanning it up and down, up and down. When she's satisfied her mind isn't fooling her, she looks into my eyes. And I know Fitz says more, and the police come, but I see nothing except her blue eyes, as deep and endless as the ocean. I don't know how long we sit like this. And for once no thoughts are running through my mind except I'm alive. I'm alive, and Clare's alive, and we're safe.

At some point, I stand, pulling Clare up along with me. I start to walk away, but one more look in her eyes and my arms are wrapping around her. The stress of the evening finally hits her, full force, and I can feel her tears soaking my shirt. But I don't care. I have Clare in my arms. The world can end in this moment, and I'll be content.

She pulls away too soon, and we walk wordlessly through the hall ways, somehow finding ourselves outside. Simpson is yelling at everyone to go home, but no one is listening. I speak without warning. "When I was nine there was this kid Mike. His hobby was beating me up. And no matter how fast I ran he was always faster." I know what a poor explanation it is for my actions, but it's all I can tell her now.

"You're not nine anymore," she says softly. I know she's exhausted, not just physically, but mentally. So tired.

Too tired for my anger, but I can't stop the words from exploding out of me, though they do so with less force than usual. "Well neither are the bullies so what am I supposed to do?"

She sounds on the verge of tears when she responds. "I don't have your answer." She turns to look at me, and the meaning behind her next words can hurt me so much more than the knife, if I let myself think about them. "But if this is it, I can't be with you."

I don't respond. I'd thought the pain was over, but apparently, it's just beginning.


End file.
